Tales of Love
by potatopersonal
Summary: Have you ever wondered how the nations express their love for others?


In honor of Valentine's Day, I present this to you.

* * *

Japan wandered around Italy's house, looking for Italy. It wasn't that Italy was skipping out on training, once again. Rather, Japan wanted to spend some time with his friend (he still had difficulty displaying friendship, but it was nice to be near someone's presence). Due to the size of Italy's house, however, it was proving to be an adventure, finding which room the Italian was in. He wasn't in the kitchen, or his bedroom, or in the garden, or the lounge... Perhaps he was in the art room?

The art room was a small room that had once been a bedroom. Now, it had been converted into an art studio of Italy's, with shelves of all sorts of paint colors, canvases drying in the light, buckets of paintbrushes, all types of paper...

If Italy wasn't in any of the other rooms, then this had to be the one he was in. Japan made his way to the paint splattered, door, and quietly opened the door. Inside was the nation that he was looking for.

Italy's face was scrunched in concentration, pencil soaring across a large canvass as Japan entered the small room he was occupying. Japan closed the door behind him as lightly as he could, trying not to disturb the chestnut-haired nation's concentration, but Italy still looked up. He grinned at the quiet man, waving off the apologies Japan gave. Instead, he asked the other nation a question.

"Hey Japan, can I have your opinion of my work?"

Japan nodded, and padded over to the other side of the room, and took a look at the canvas. On it was Germany sitting in an intricate flower garden, hair lightly ruffled, wearing a peaceful smile. He was lightly cupping a lily and a cornflower in his hands. Clearly it was still a work in progress, just a pencil sketch, but it was clearly set to be a masterpiece.

"It's looks amazing thus far, but the left hand looks a little odd. Perhaps tilt it more, to show that it's being cupped? Aside from that, however, it looks great. The proportions, the design, the fact that Germany isn't in the complete center, how the flowers are in a circular pattern makes it feel as though they are enveloping him..."

Turning around to face Italy, Japan asked; "Are you going to use acrylic paint, or oil paint?"

"Oil paint," Italy responded, making Japan smile. Oil paint was very expensive, not to mention extremely hard to get off of clothing, and took a long time to dry. It was a labor of love, no doubt.

Japan smiled once more, looking at the proud grin Italy wore. Clearly Italy had feelings for Germany, if the amount of times Italy blushed around the blond man and the 'dates' the two had gone on were anything to go by, and the painting he was now working on...

Japan smiled as he pulled up an adjacent chair, and grabbed a piece of sketch paper, deciding to work on some character designs he had. As he began to make the shapes of a human body, he mentally wished Germany and Italy the best of luck; they truly deserved one another.

* * *

America let out a curse as he screwed up another stitch, forcing him to undo it. He was temped to just throw the knitting needles across the room, or just rip the yarn into shreds, and just be done with the annoyance. But he controlled himself, reminded of the goal that he was working towards; the completion of a pair of knitted gloves.

It was supposed to be a gift to Russia; America had long ago noticed how Russia's hands seemed perpetually cold to the point of being frozen. The sunny nation wanted to do something nice for the country he cared about, something that would last longer than a few days. And a handmade pair of gloves would surely last a long time, and would make Russia happy! That was how his little project began, with him buying a pair of knitting needles and to balls of yarn; heroes make mistakes after all! He immediately set to work, proud of his idea.

Still, it was easier said than done, making a pair of gloves. Actually learning the proper technique for making a stitch, and doing it over and over again wasn't quite what he was expecting of the task. But he couldn't give up now; America didn't want to give up half-way. That would defeat the entire purpose of what he had been striving to accomplish. Giving a sigh, America picked up the needles once more, and set to work, an image of a certain smiling man giving him some motivation.

xxx

Russia owlishly looked up at the figure above him, as they interrupted his reading. A tan face, cerulean blue eyes, rough textured golden hair. The sunshine that melted his heart; the one and only America. Looking at the excited expression on America's face, Russia set his book closed, knowing the other wanted his attention. Not to mention the Cheshire-esque grin that threatened to split America's face in half. The icy man looked inquisitively at his opposite, eyes questioning the blond man, who happily began to speak.

"Ya know, Russia, I have a special little gift for you!" America exclaimed, lightly bouncing on his feet.

"A gift?" Russia asked, head tilting ever so slightly, confused. "Is there a holiday that I didn't know of?"

"Nope! Well, I mean, Valentine's Day _is_ coming up, but that's beside the point!" America huffed, cheeks puffed out in mock frustration. "I wanted to do something nice for you, idiot." The nation smiled to himself as Russia furrowed his eyebrows, and reached into his wool-lined pocket, pulling out a relatively small box. "Tada! My _amazing_ gift that I know you'll love!"

Russia took the gift with care, and gently lifted the lid off. Inside was a pair of teal colored wool gloves; although there were a couple missed stitches here and there, the gloves were overall well made. Russia smiled, and put the new pair of gloves on; they were a little bit large; Alfred must have overestimated his hand size. Still, they were warm and colorful, and reminded Russia of the sky, open and accepting, wide with possibilities. They were beautiful.

Ivan gave Alfred hug; light at first, tentative. As America gave a bear hug back, however, Russia's arms tightened around the other.

"большоe cпасибо, Федя." Russia murmured, face buried in the soft, black wool of Alfred's bomber jacket, breathing in the scent. Fries, and what seemed to be something fruity, perhaps a cologne. In other words, something that was comforting. "This means a lot to me."

Alfred gave a soft smile, patting Ivan on the back. "No problem, big guy. After all, I know you'd do the same for me, if you wanted'ta make me happy."

Some gifts, no matter how little they might seem, may mean a great deal to someone.

* * *

 _PAINTING CAN BE FRUSTRATING- particularly oil painting. What do I stay away from? Oil paints, charcoal, and pastels. Oils are expensive and you can't get them off easy, charcoal and pastels are_ incredibly messy _. They always get all over me._

 _Well, this is the end! Hope you enjoyed my utter stupidity as I wrote these two drabble things. If you have anything to say about this, please leave a comment down below!_

 _-Potato_


End file.
